The Light's Despair
by MapleWolf
Summary: Russia delves into forces beyond his control and Canada pays the price.


De-anon from the kink meme.

Warning: Magical brainwashing.

* * *

The wordless cry that echoes through the halls is primal, a howl of wild fury and helplessness. It is the cry made by a free spirit; a soul that was never meant to be trapped by walls and chains.

"Light," Russia's voice is soft but desperate. "You are hurting. Let me help you." There will be no answer, but he has to try.

Chains rattle, as teeth snap only inches from the ends of his outstretched fingers. Once-gentle eyes are clouded over with blinding hatred, and Russia knows that, like a cornered predator, his Light would rip out his throat if given the chance.

Still, Russia will not leave him alone to suffer. It is Russia's fault that he is like this – he had meddled in powers beyond his control, too impatient to wait for Canada to truly be _his_, and now his precious Light pays the price.

For six days, his Light, his little Canada, is everything he could ever want. Six days of the week, Canada smiles so brightly, content to sit at Russia's side as though there is nowhere else he would rather be; and then there is one day -twenty-four hours- where all of the anger and fear and longing for freedom that had been forcefully suppressed is loosed.

Twenty-four hours where Canada is little more than an animal, so overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions that he doesn't eat, doesn't talk, doesn't even sleep; so wild that he has to be chained down to keep him from hurting himself or others. (Russia still has the scars from the first time Canada had gone through the Rage.)

So Russia stays by his Light's side; his penance for putting Canada through this agony. He must watch and ache with every rattle of chain and angry sound, unable to do anything to ease Canada's mental anguish.

"Russia?" Lithuania is at the door, holding a tray with two bowls of stew and three steaming cups of tea just as he always does. His eyes are tired and sad as his gaze travels from the still-thrashing Canada to Russia's slumped figure. He is early; the Rage will not subside for a few more minutes, but Russia is glad of it.

Russia only has to _look _at him, and Lithuania is setting the tray down on the small table by the door and rushing to his side, though he is careful to stay out of Canada's reach.

Lithuania doesn't have to say anything, as he lets Russia cling to him; stroking Russia's hair with gentle hands.

If Canada is Russia's Light, Lithuania is his Heart.

It is Lithuania who talks Russia down when he's in one of his moods; who knows that Russia doesn't mean to lose his temper and forgives him every time Russia realizes what he has done.

It was Lithuania who had warned Russia against using magic to tame his frightened, angry Light; but when the first six days had passed, and Canada slipped into the Rage, there was no condemnation in his eyes, only concern and worry as Russia threw himself into the search for a cure. And it is Lithuania who does what Russia cannot as he reassures Canada, after each and every Rage, that no harm was done; and it was Lithuania who wiped away the blood after that first horrible time and let Canada weep into his shirt.

When the angry howling fades away, and an exhausted Canada collapses to the floor with a near-silent whimper, Russia is almost too relieved to move. Lithuania is the one who lifts the key from its place around Russia's neck and gently unlocks the padded shackles that bind each of Canada's four limbs.

"M'sorry," Canada whispers, too tired even to lift his head.

"It's not your fault," Lithuania responds, massaging the bruises on Canada's wrists. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Russia stands, but lingers where he is, watching their quiet interaction with longing eyes until Lithuania looks up and nods pointedly at the abandoned tray. He brings the food over, setting it down on the floor at Lithuania's side before sitting down himself.

Canada _beams _at him with tired eyes, one hand turning as if to reach out for him.

It makes something inside of Russia ache, watching Canada smile so brightly at him when only moments before he'd been growling and all but spitting acid, as he reaches out to take Canada's hand in his own. It feels like a lie – Canada only cares for him, only seeks his approval because of the spell – but Canada will see any rejection as a sign that he has done something wrong, that he has failed somehow, and Russia will not be the cause of any more of Canada's pain.

Lithuania just smiles, one hand on Canada's chest to keep him from trying to sit up – he's still far too weak to move – and passes a bowl to Russia.

When Russia does no more than hold it, still focused on Canada and his smile, Lithuania shakes his head and reaches out to gently extract Canada's fingers from Russia's grasp. "Just because you chose to starve yourself doesn't mean Canada doesn't need to eat."

Canada's eyes go wide, so sad and disbelieving that it hurts. "Russia. . . Russia didn't eat? Because of me?" He is like a child, innocent and guileless.

Damn. Lithuania just smiles at him – the little sneak knew exactly what he was doing – and Russia has no choice but to force himself to lift a spoonful to his mouth, if only to ease the pain in Canada's eyes. The stew is good, warm and savory, just the way he likes it, and as he swallows that first bite, he realizes just how hungry he really is.

Fighting a smile, Russia continues to eat, watching through his eyelashes as Lithuania cradles Canada's head and spoon feeds him the broth. Together they are beautiful, with Lithuania's darker hair pulled back and tied behind his head and Canada's pale locks loose and falling over his face. He loves them, his Light and his Heart, though he knows that Lithuania is only waiting for a chance to leave him and Canada. . . if Canada could break through the magic, he would be gone quicker than one of America's hamburgers. And Russia would not try to stop him.

When the broth is gone, Lithuania gathers up the bowls, setting them back on the tray. Canada looks to Russia with tired, hopeful eyes, and Russia is unable to refuse the silent plea. He takes his fragile Light into his arms, cradling him gently as he stands. "I am sorry, my Light."

"It's alrigh-," Canada yawns deeply, snuggling against Russia's chest as his eyelids flutter shut. "alright, Russia."

It's not, but Russia doesn't force the issue, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on Canada's forehead. Canada is sound asleep by the time Russia reaches the bedroom, clinging to Russia's shirt and whimpering in protest when Russia lays him on the bed and pulls away. Even asleep, the spell has him desperate for Russia's presence and approval, anxious not to be rejected.

Russia stands by the bed, not wanting to hurt Canada by leaving and yet unable to bear the guilt that comes simply by seeing his Light's child-like nature. Usually he doesn't have a choice, as Canada won't sleep without Russia, but on the nights after the Rage, he could sleep through an earthquake.

"You won't hurt him." Lithuania's hand grasps Russia's arm, warm green eyes meeting his gaze for a moment before looking to the slumbering Nation on the bed. "Surely you know that."

Russia shakes his head, unable to speak. His Heart is so forgiving that it hurts, and even now, Russia knows he doesn't deserve the gentle touch that urges him forward.

"It's alright," Lithuania whispers soothingly. "He needs you, and I'll be right here if you need me."

The moment Russia sits at the edge of the bed, Canada seems to gravitate towards him, clinging to the hem of his shirt with a happy sigh, and moving as Russia scoots over to allow room for Lithuania to join them.

With his Light on one side, and his Heart on the other, Russia allows sleep to take him, content, if not completely happy, with the knowledge that, for now, his loves are with him.


End file.
